Boy, Reborn
by Sarah Koh
Summary: Sasuke dies. [An AU where Itachi killed Sasuke in the massacre]
1. Boy, Reborn

Boy, Reborn  
by Ouvalyrin

Disclaimer: Not mine, alas.

Spoilers: Augh. Early part of Naruto, Uchiha massacre.

Summary: Sasuke dies.

Ratings Notes/Warnings: R; violence, disturbing themes, blood, some profanity

Author's Notes: Happy Birthday, Hana! This is the fic that _refused to end_, all for you. This is also the fic that I refuse to let die alone, because I can see so much backstory everywhere that needs to be crammed into this universe, which I am so very in love with. At over 9,000 words, this is one of the longest one-shots I have _ever_ written.

Additional Notes (ffnet only): Will _possibly_ be continued. I a) have a life, b) have other fics for other fandoms, and c) have other fics lined up for this 'verse. Which will not be called _The Zombie 'Verse_ no matter how awesome a title that would make. XD;

Feedback: makes me happy.

* * *

"Close your eyes," Itachi whispers, his hand stroking an old pattern on Sasuke's hair. Sasuke obeys and thinks of his brother, of his mother and father and friends. He sees swirls and spots on the backs of his eyelids, a mesh of dizzying bluegreenpurple fireworks. 

He sees the sky in his mind and for a moment there is the sensation of falling, a tiny bird in the open blue; the wind catches him, lifts him high up where he can soar, safe and alone. The moon is half-full.

The blade comes as unexpectedly as one of Itachi's pokes, slips through flesh and skin with Sasuke's body offering only a token resistance. The sky dissolves into his brother, standing over him. Shadows of red and black everywhere.

"Don't open your eyes until I tell you to," Itachi bids, and he presses his hand over Sasuke's eyes.

Sasuke waits.

* * *

"Open your eyes," Itachi says, his fingers tangling in the fine strands of his brother's hair. Sasuke obeys, feeling the tug of Itachi's fingers on his scalp. His eyes hurt; his stomach aches.

Itachi gives him water. It slips down his throat and Sasuke drinks it with hurried, gasping gulps. The sweetest, clearest thing he's ever been given; he sucks it down and holds his cup out for more. Itachi takes the glass away and fills it up again. Sasuke can hear his movements clearly: cloth brushing skin, weight transferring from leg to leg, heart beating, lungs breathing. Water traveling through pipes to pour out of the faucet. The squeak when Itachi shuts the faucet off. Repeated motions as Itachi approaches, glass in hand. The shift of his fingers as they rub against the glass.

Sasuke takes the cup and drinks. He hears a slow, calm thud in the back of his mind; his body centers itself around it, settling. He hears his stomach making wet noises as the water trickles its way down. This time the water slakes his thirst, enough for the pressing need to drink to abate. Sasuke looks around.

He doesn't recognize the room. A crescent moon hangs in the sky through one window. The cloth against his body is rough, scratchy. The room is small and shadows dominate the wall, particularly in one corner where it seems to breathe.

It _is_ breathing. Sasuke can hear the rattle of its lungs and his eyes pick out the outline of a massive sword. The body blocks a small wooden chair that creaks with every movement, as if it's too weak to bear the full weight.

Sasuke creeps against the headboard of the bed he's lying on, pressing his back against it. The sheet curls around his waist and legs, trapping him.

"Brother?" he asks, turning to look at Itachi. The moonlight falls just short of the shadow sitting beside him; but Sasuke can see him clearly. The deeper lines and the narrower face, broader shoulders and more scars. Narrower eyes and a strange cloak that falls around him.

Sasuke can see _everything_.

"You're not my brother," he says, and Not-Itachi taps him against his forehead. Sasuke stills, because this is not his brother but _oh_, he looks just like Itachi. But too old. Too old and weirdly familiar in its strangeness and Sasuke wants _Itachi_. Not this familiar stranger.

"Hush, Sasuke," Not-Itachi says, and he runs the back of his fingers against Sasuke's cheek, stroking the skin. "You've been asleep."

"Who are you?" Sasuke demands and tries not to lean into Not-Itachi's touch. His thumb brushes Sasuke's lip. "Where's Itachi? Stop touching me!"

The shadow in the corner snorts. Sasuke turns his head, sees through the darkness. A manshark sits on a chair, wearing the same cloak as Not-Itachi, a sword with ragged teeth strapped to his back. Even in the darkness, Sasuke can see the blue tinge of his skin and the darker blue of his gills. He looks crazy; like one of those missing-nin that Itachi is sometimes sent after.

Sasuke wonders if they will kill him, the missing-nin and the Not-Itachi; but Itachi will come and find him, Itachi will get him. Itachi will kill them and take him away into a place where it's safe.

"I _am_ Itachi," Not-Itachi says, his voice low and gentle, the way Itachi's voice rarely got but was always remembered as.

"You're _not_," Sasuke hisses, "you _can't_ be," but where he could see only differences he sees only similarities. Itachi's hair, Itachi's eyes, Itachi's face and voice and hands. He wets his lips. "How? _Brother_?"

"You were asleep for many years, Sasuke," Itachi tells him.

"Oh." Sasuke moves to rub at his eyes, but pauses and sees the dirt stains on his hands. Grave dirt. "I died?"

Itachi doesn't pause, but Sasuke can read his brother's emotions without visual cues. He's _surprised_. "Yes. How do you feel?"

Sasuke considers the question. "I hurt," he says. "Where's Mother?" Itachi's hands are touching his neck now; they're large and callused and could wrap around Sasuke's neck and strangle him with barely any effort, undo the work Itachi put into raising him. Sasuke shakes the alien thought out of his head. But still—Itachi was always taller than him, but now, even when sitting, he _looms_.

Sasuke is afraid, but warmth wells up in him, directed at Itachi. Sasuke takes refuge in it, because he's never supposed to be afraid of his brother; and this is better. Itachi's hand is starting to trail warmth over his skin, and Sasuke wants to lean into his touch, press himself against Itachi until he loses himself in Itachi.

"Sasuke," Itachi says, and his fingers are whispering something into Sasuke's skin in a foreign language. "Everyone's dead."

The missing-nin is laughing now. Sasuke can hear his chuckles, see the quick flashes of white fangs and hear the click of his teeth against each other.

"When will they be back?" Sasuke asks.

Itachi says, "They can't come back. _Sasuke_," Sasuke shakes to hear Itachi speak, to realize that Mother and Father are _dead_ like he was, "we are the last of our family."

Sasuke wraps his arms around himself and meets Itachi's eyes. "We're alone," he says, and Itachi says, "Yes."

The missing-nin turns out to be Itachi's friend. Sasuke addresses him as _Kisame-san_ and watches him with wary eyes until he realizes he can hear _everything_; he spends an hour sitting in the room, listening to the people around him: muted dinner conversations, two boys and a girl yelling and fighting, the kitchen staff making jokes and washing the dishes.

Itachi is a missing-nin. When Sasuke asks why, Itachi replies that they believe he killed their family.

"You didn't!" Sasuke cries out. "You didn't kill them. They can't believe it was you, you'd never do that."

Kisame-san and Itachi both watch him until Sasuke feels their gazes on his skin, prickling like bugs.

"No," Itachi says, "I wouldn't."

Sasuke is relieved; Kisame-san seems to find something amusing, enough so that he keeps glancing at Sasuke and smirking. He shakes his head after a while and says, "So _this_ is the younger brother," and refuses to say anything more.

Sasuke doesn't find Itachi's outlaw status very funny, but Mother's brought him up to be polite so he doesn't say it, settling for frowning at Kisame-san over his meal.

The first bite explodes in his mouth. Sasuke chokes and spits it out. Around them, the restaurant quiets. Everyone is watching him and Sasuke thinks, _what's wrong with him?—is he okay?—poor thing, he looks so small—who're those two men with him?—I wonder if he's been kidnapped?—that's such a waste of food_

The thoughts hurt, like sandpaper scraping the inside of his skull. Sasuke moans and says, "Stop it!" Louder, when the thoughts keep coming in, all different and strange and painful: "STOP IT!"

Itachi rests a hand against Sasuke's back. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice low, pitched only that Sasuke and Kisame-san can hear it: _side effects_, Sasuke thinks, _the scroll warned about the side effects but they didn't describe it; he's useless like this_

_damn kid, making a fuss over good food; he'll get us caught or slow us down_

Sasuke stands up and runs, trying to chase the taste of blood out of his mouth, outrun the thoughts that aren't his own, the thoughts that hurt more when Itachi was near; he wonders if dying is quiet, preferable. If the only thoughts in his head are his own, or if he just stops thinking.

Itachi catches up and Kisame-san flanks him. Sasuke runs faster, and soon his brother and his brother's friend are gone. Lost somewhere in the distance behind him.

He stops at nightfall. Sits under a tree with his knees drawn up to his chest.

The thoughts flood in, relentless, unforgiving, and he can't breathe for crying and he claws at his ears, as if tearing them off will help, and his fingernails catch on the side of his cheek that he'd cleaned free of grave dirt only that morning, and he digs in hard, _harder_, pulls. Rips shreds of it right off and the pain doesn't hurt as much as he thought it would have, he can hardly even _feel_ it. A throb like a scratch on his knee, and that's all.

But there's blood everywhere, all over his hand, and his skin is caught beneath his fingernails and when he cries the tears trickle into the gash and make it sting, so he leans his head forward so the tears will drop out of his eyes and not along his face. They puddle on the dirt.

In an hour, he touches his cheek and finds the skin fresh and whole. It's sore but by the time Sasuke falls asleep it's like he never hurt himself.

He wakes up to a strange room and his brother in the corner, hat lowered so only shadows are visible in the gap between collar and straw. Sasuke says, "Niisan?"

Itachi looks at him. "Sasuke. What happened?"

Sasuke listens, but there's only silence. Only his own thoughts and only his own mind, so he thinks maybe it's okay to tell Itachi. Itachi will know what to do.

"It tasted like blood," Sasuke says. "Blood and dirt. And ashes. And meat. And sauce and too many things. And my head got so loud and there wasn't enough room for everyone."

"Everyone?" Itachi comes to stand by the bed. He doesn't touch Sasuke, body hidden beneath the cloak. Sasuke wants the comfort of skin against skin suddenly. He almost reaches out for Itachi, but catches himself. Itachi is older now. Sasuke should act like it.

Only, they are alone. There is no more family, no more clan. And if Sasuke cannot touch Itachi, there is no one he can touch.

"I. Heard things," Sasuke mumbles. "Thoughts. They _hurt_." He gestures, as if that will make Itachi understand. Old shame and embarrassment floods him; Itachi is too old, too strange. Sasuke longs for his older brother, who gave him piggy back rides and ruffled his hair and smiled. Who could comfort Sasuke, and who Sasuke could comfort. He can't speak to this version of his brother, who stands, silent and in shadow.

"I see," Itachi says, and this time he does touch Sasuke, a hand on his head, tugging on his hair. "We'll leave this village tomorrow and start your training with Kisame."

Sasuke looks up, startled. "Kisame-san?" he asks, and Itachi nods. _I want you_, Sasuke thinks. _I want you to train me. Not him._ "Niisan—" he stops. "All right," he agrees.

Kisame-san returns, grinning and smug. Sasuke can hear the clink of coins, smells the beer and meat; for the first time, he realizes that Kisame-san smells like salt. Salt and water, but nothing like the ocean, and certainly not like tears. Salt and water.

"We leave tomorrow morning," Itachi murmurs from his corner, and Kisame-san turns to look.

"All right," he agrees, just like Sasuke did. "They haven't got anything good in this village anyways. Just some weird shit that passes for entertainment."

Itachi doesn't seem interested, so Sasuke examines the weave of his blanket. Dirt remains caught in the threads, a tiny little scrap that Sasuke sees with no effort. An easy, clear mark of brown against white. Sasuke tries to pick it out but it remains there, lodged between two strands of white.

Sasuke stops and looks out the window. He can see the pores in the glass if he focuses, but it's easy enough to remember what it feels like to look through it.

The sun is high and it's bright outside.

"Brother, can I go out?" He fidgets; the new skin on his cheek tingles. It feels different from the rest of his body; fresher, cleaner, more alive. Dead skin covers him everywhere. It hurt to peel the skin off his cheek, but not much. Only a little.

Sasuke thinks of snakes, shedding their old skin. Maybe that's what he's doing. Maybe that's a side effect of dying. He flickers his tongue to see if he can taste the air, like a snake, but there's nothing.

"It's too dangerous," Itachi says, and Sasuke says, "Brother, _please_." The skin on his cheek is humming; he starts squirming, tapping his fingers against the bed, his inner thigh. His blood is whispering now, but its voice grows louder and louder; soon it'll be shouting and Sasuke will go insane. Peel his old skin off, grow a new one.

Sasuke scratches too hard against his arm. His fingernails slip; more skin, dangling in his fingers. It's disgusting and he can see the yellow-white of fat and his blood is blue-green, aquamarine; the color of the veins beneath his skin. It hurts like picking at a scab; a deep, sore pain, but it feels better to pick at it and flick it away. He keeps peeling, because the pain goes away and he's healing faster this time.

Kisame-san breathes in, sharp and loud. Itachi grabs his arm. "What are you doing, Sasuke?" he demands, and Sasuke stares.

"Why can't I go out?" he asks. "I need to go out—my skin's too _tight_." He digs his fingers into his palm. Itachi catches it, unfolds his fingers and looks at the drying blood.

Sasuke hears the other thoughts at the edge of his mind again, but the peeling seems to have helped.

"Don't worry, Itachi," he says. "It'll heal. It did on my cheek. See?" He points at his face. "It healed before you came for me and it helps with the voices."

Itachi watches—_stares_. Sasuke thinks, for the first time, _he doesn't know what's going on._ The thought frightens him, because isn't this normal? Sasuke wants this, needs this; isn't this what's supposed to happen? Isn't Itachi in control?

Sasuke looks down at his lap. Itachi doesn't release his arm and Sasuke feels helpless. "Brother?"

"Do what you need to do," Itachi says when the silence weighs heavy and oppressive. "I. Don't hurt yourself."

Sasuke's face lights up. He heals faster than he did before; already, the new skin is growing.

There's blood on the sheets but Sasuke doesn't see it. He swings his legs out of the bed and almost stumbles, but catches himself.

"Come back by three," Itachi says abruptly, as if unable to stop himself. Sasuke nods, slipping on his shoes and almost tripping on the way out.

People stare at the blood on his hand and arm, but since it's the wrong color (and Sasuke wonders about that, but it's not all that important, not really) they don't stop him. Some give him weird looks but Sasuke doesn't slow down.

He jumps onto the rooftops the way ninja did back in Konoha, and running and jumping is easy; his feet know the steps and his legs have the strength. It comes to him that this is what he wanted, before.

It's so _easy_. And he still has so far to go. To make Itachi proud of him, to make his dead parents proud. To become worthy of carrying on the mantle of the Uchiha.

He finds hot springs outside the village, scrambling up the mountain on hands and feet, fingers clawing into rock and finding purchase. He leaves shreds of skin from his fingers behind him, a trail of blood. It doesn't matter, blood dries and the rock is dark and the skin will disappear.

He takes off his clothes, folds them up and dives into the water. The water welcomes him in its warmth, enveloping him. Sasuke stays there for as long as he dares, surfacing for air only when his chest begins to ache. He floats, the urgency receding somewhat, but then he goes underneath. His skin peels smoothly, softened by the hot water. The blood leaks in thin trails; nothing like the mess before.

He comes up for air three times. The entire process barely takes an hour, and the dead skin melts in the water. Sasuke watches and rolls around for a bit, luxuriating in the feel of it.

He gets out of the water, a wet, bleeding creature so transformed by bliss it could almost be pain. He lies on the rocks and waits for his skin to grow back. He sighs a little when it does, stretching. Not so rubbery, so tough. Like regular skin, soft and fragile.

Sasuke flexes his hands and makes his way to the opposite side of the pool, flopping down and drying out on the sun-warmed rocks there. When he feels alive again—human, fresh and clean and new, as if he were just born—he gets dressed.

He makes his way back down the mountain, more careful this time, but if he gets cut he'll heal before anyone sees. Blood, even his strangely colored blood, will wash.

The village is poor, but the people are smiling. Sasuke hears them talking about heroes, about children. He listens in—_eavesdrops_—and there is something about bridges, water, ninja. Victory. He can hear every word clearly, but none of them make sense.

He tilts his head and basks in the sunlight; his skin tingles with warmth. A silver-haired man with the Leaf symbol on his forehead protector watches him. Sasuke looks at him before turning away. The knowledge of life burns in him. He opens his mouth, trying to suck the world in.

Sasuke doesn't ever want to die again. The idea fills him with a weird horror now, clawing its way up his throat like he might have clawed his way out of a grave, once. He tries not to think about it and, in the face of the sun and warmth and people, it ebbs.

Sasuke wanders along. A boy his age with spiky hair sticking from beneath a fisherman's hat speaks of heroes and saving the day; an old woman rejoices; a young man shouts that they are free. Sasuke weaves through the market, stopping to watch the sun bounce off the metal curve of an earring set out for display. He picks it up and the woman attending the stall asks where his parents are.

"Dead," Sasuke says without looking up (it doesn't hurt to say it, because even though they are dead he still has Itachi).

The woman's face softens. "Oh, you poor thing, are you one of the orphans?"

Sasuke shrugs. "I guess," he says. He watches her with narrowed eyes beneath his bangs. She doesn't look dangerous but he hates the way she talks to him; as if he is to be pitied. He doesn't want to tell her about his brother in case she believes he killed their family. "But someone else takes care of me."

She laughs and touches his face with gentle hands. "The earrings are a bit too old for you, darling," she says. "Come back in a few years." She slides a finger under his chin tilts his face up. "You'll be the prettiest boy there ever was."

Sasuke makes a face. "I'm not _pretty_," he objects. "Boys aren't pretty."

Her laugh is dry. She examines his face, brushes his hair away from his ear. Holds up another earring, smaller and gold. "This one looks better."

Sasuke shrugs. Jewelry shines and gets caught on things and makes noise; ninja don't have much use for it, so neither does he. And Itachi didn't give him any money anyways.

"I need to go back," he says. "My brother wants me back soon." He pulls his face out of her grip and darts through the crowd, spinning and ducking. He catches sight of a flutter of black cloak and turns to look; Kisame-san and his brother lurk. He joins them, making a face. "Brother, didn't you trust me on my own?"

Itachi catches his hand and examines it, then the other. Sasuke waits; Itachi must have missed him in those years he was dead.

_Years_.

How much has the world moved on?

Sasuke shivers a little, pulls his hand back and tucks his arms around himself. He feels small in the shadows of his brother and Kisame-san; drowning in their darkness. A tiny bird, and the sky is so big.

This time, it's not the sun that chases the sensation away but the hand on his shoulder as Itachi guides him back to the inn. Sasuke leans back into Itachi's body, just a little.

The next morning, they leave. Sasuke walks between Itachi and Kisame. Their robes suffocate him but the air is clear and he can smell dust and grass and birds. The wind tickles the back of his neck, blowing his hair around his face.

His feet kick up dust. They travel in silence, veering off the road and darting. Sasuke keeps up, surprised at the lack of effort it takes. Itachi and Kisame-san become silent, flitting shadows, black moving through green. Sasuke can see them no matter where they go; he follows them, lost in the black folds of their cloaks billowing behind them.

He wishes they would move slower; the play of sunlight on the leaves fascinates him, gold on green on white. He wants to smell the air and lick the dew off the trees, watch the ants march by in their steady, calm trails.

He doesn't mention this to Itachi, who he suspects would not understand.

They stop for lunch, next to a river. Sasuke watches the fish move beneath the water. His hands dart; his fingers clench; he lifts a flopping, wriggling fish out, needing to use both hands to keep hold of the creature. He deposits it on the ground, where Kisame-san kills and guts it with sterile efficiency. Sasuke makes a face at blood that's not his own. He catches three more; two for Kisame-san and one for Itachi.

His stomach growls loud enough for Itachi and Kisame-san to hear. They look his way.

"Eat something," Itachi says. The last fish cooks over the fire. The scent is maddening; Sasuke bites his lip and remembers the taste of blood and fire.

"I can't," Sasuke says. "I'll. I'll find something else to eat."

Kisame-san watches him with smirking, predatory eyes, as if he'd like to eat Sasuke himself. Sasuke backs away.

Once out of sight, he returns to the river. He lowers himself into it, his skin almost vibrating at the sensation of water. He can hold his breath longer this time around; he goes flitting through, his hair floating around him in inky waves, his clothes sticking to his body. He squirms in delight, goes chasing after bubbles.

A silver shape flashes by; he snaps at it without thinking, fingernails ripping into it, his teeth sinking into raw flesh. He eats the fish with a savage, instinctive pleasure; it tastes _good_ and his stomach sucks it all in before demanding more. He surfaces, breathes deep, swims some more before another fish moves by him. That dies too. He still tastes blood, but also flesh, and his body welcomes it eagerly. Two more before his stomach is full, and he stays in the water for a minute longer. Leaps onto land, shaking water out of his hair, before sniffing for Kisame-san's salt/water scent.

On land, he feels younger, clumsier. His fingers are short and not quite capable of the dexterity he requires of them; he trips and falls all the time. He glances at his reflection, is stunned by how thin he looks: his cheeks hollowed, his eyes shadowed, his collarbones showing through skin clearly; but other than that, he looks the same age, the same height.

It's a little eerie and he hugs himself tight, the only reassurance he can give himself.

He starts running towards Kisame-san, knowing Itachi must be with him. When he's with Itachi, it doesn't seem to matter so much.

Itachi and Kisame-san are waiting.

"Did you eat?" Itachi asks, eyes flickering over Sasuke's wet clothes. They have a disquieting slant to them.

"Uh-huh." Sasuke pulls at his clothes, making a face. "I caught fish. Ate _four_."

They continue traveling, this time at a slightly slower pace, stopping when they reach a clearing.

Itachi nods to Sasuke. "Show me what you can do."

Sasuke has to relearn the proper way to throw and hold a kunai; he drops his shuriken more times than not; his fingers stumble over the seals, often to dangerous or useless effect. He stares, dismayed.

But Itachi says he's stronger than before, stronger and faster than him and Kisame-san. Relearning the seals and techniques will be easy.

Sasuke's mind knows the shapes, calls them up with easy familiarity, but his fingers refuse to move correctly, his tongue stutters out the words, and at the end of the first training session, it's all Sasuke can do not to curl up and cry. But he has to learn this—he has to know this. For Itachi. Everything is for Itachi now.

They train each day until Itachi says enough; three weeks and Sasuke's body follows his mind. They run into a new problem: Sasuke has no chakra resources. He spars with Kisame-san, fast and strong enough for this not to matter until a genjutsu is cast. Sasuke weakens, falters. Kisame-san's sword rips at his body with its hungry teeth; he heals only moments later.

They arrive at a village two weeks later. Itachi and Kisame-san leave him in the inn when they go out. Sasuke knows that they're killing someone; he smells the blood on them, though he doubts any of it actually got on Itachi. It's not something he can explain. He sits in the room and plays with the shadows, slipping in and out and holding still, as if he himself is a shadow. The pounding noise in the back of his mind slows down even further when he does this.

There are shadows in the room that should not be there. Sasuke spots the ninja who arrive; his heart pounds a little faster. They're the first ninja he's seen other than Itachi and Kisame-san, and he wants to talk to them.

But they lurk, prowling through the shadows the way Itachi and Kisame-san do. Sasuke realizes that they're here to kill Itachi, and finds this unacceptable. They are the last: him and Itachi. There are no more, and Sasuke cannot be alone. Being alone is like being dead.

Sasuke throws himself at them; his only chance is to kill them before they can attack back, and he remembers the diagrams Itachi mapped out on Sasuke's body. Points of pressure, weakness. Sasuke grabs one ninja's head, wrenches hard to the left; the man gurgles, blood frothing on his mouth and spitting onto Sasuke's cheek, slick and wet; finally, the crack as his neck breaks. Only four more and Sasuke kills three the same way. One stabs him; Sasuke pulls the sword out and shoves it under the bed, where no one can reach it.

The last, he leaps on his shoulders and is about to do the same; but then he finds flesh in his mouth and his teeth sinking deep into the soft flesh between the collarbone and the throat, and blood wells out, runs over the ninja's shoulder and Sasuke's mouth; but something else comes out too.

Sasuke bites, deep and hard, sucking as much as he can out. The blood tastes coppery and foul, but he doesn't dare let go to spit it out.

The ninja tries to yell and lets out a strangled squawk. Sasuke slams him down against the floorboards, knowing he's too small to keep him down and hoping that the blood loss makes the ninja dizzy and faint.

Someone knocks at the door. "What's going on in there?" a woman yells, her voice muffled. "No fighting allowed!"

The ninja lets out a shriek, feet thrashing on the ground and eyes rolling up in his head; Sasuke closes his eyes and bites until his teeth meet through the skin and sucks all he can out. He feels the last trickle of it flow into him.

It's warmth; it's light; it's life. Everything Sasuke doesn't have now, and Sasuke allows for one wide, bloody smile; he can't _wait_ to tell Itachi.

"Let me in!" the woman says through the door. The doorknob jiggles. Sasuke eyes it, wondering what to do. Killing ninja is fine; killing a civilian would be bad.

He hears Itachi approach, followed by Kisame's heavier tread.

"What are you doing?" he hears Itachi ask. Sasuke feels relief relax into his veins. Itachi will take care of everything. Itachi will be proud of him; he took on five ninja and killed them. He knows it wasn't neat enough, but he'll do better next time.

The woman and Itachi exchange a few words; Itachi presses a coin into her hand. Sasuke hears her leave, muttering suspicions over her shoulder the entire way.

Itachi unlocks the door and turns on the light.

Sasuke licks some of the foul blood off his hand and grins up at Kisame-san and Itachi. He doesn't think about the blood on him and on the bed and walls and floor.

"Itachi, look," he says and his fingers shape the seal before Itachi can stop him, and the blood vanishes, the bed is pristine. Only Sasuke is bloody now. "I can suck chakra out of people." Are you proud of me now?

Itachi and Kisame-san step into the room, shutting the door behind them. Itachi approaches, lays a hand in Sasuke's hair. It comes back bloody and wet; how much did that last ninja spray? Sasuke wonders.

"Were you hurt?" Itachi asks.

Sasuke shakes his head. "I killed them all," he says. "But I took the last person's chakra." He bites his thumb before remembering it has blood on it, pulling away and making a face. "It was really easy," he confesses. "You and Kisame-san are a lot stronger."

"Very good." Sasuke basks in Itachi's approval. "Undo the genjutsu now, Sasuke." Sasuke obeys; blood splatters on the walls and sheets, pooling on the ground around the fallen bodies. Streaks of it on Sasuke's skin as if to match.

"I want a bath," Sasuke says. "Are we going to stay here overnight?" He doesn't want to clean up the blood and the bodies. Kisame-san makes a face.

"Have to admit," he says, "it's going to be hard to hide the mess. Can see the similarities, though."

"Similarities in what?" Sasuke asks.

"Nothing," Itachi interrupts, sliding himself between Kisame-san and Sasuke. "Sasuke—how much chakra do you have left?"

"A lot," Sasuke answers, still gleeful.

"Good." A brief smile that Sasuke tucks away, treasures. "Can you maintain the illusion for a few more minutes?"

"That's _easy_," Sasuke says and his fingers shape the seal. He wipes the room clean with an illusion; no dead bodies on the ground, no blood but what's on him. Sasuke hides in the shadows as Itachi and Kisame-san exit. Counts to six hundred (ten minutes), waiting. He watches his chakra resources dry up, draining back into the anonymous ninja he stole it from.

At six hundred he dispels the genjutsu and escapes out the window, still small enough to fit. He leaps to the ground and runs, pausing only to jump onto a rooftop where it's less likely for someone to notice his small shadow moving where shadows should be still.

He finds Itachi and Kisame-san and crouches in a tree branch, extending some of his chakra into the branch the way Itachi said to but Sasuke'd been unable to. He finds the right pressure and clings with his toes.

"Our business here is done," Itachi says. Sasuke drops down beside him, flushed with excitement. He has to look up a long way to meet Itachi's eyes, but that doesn't matter. He's not weak after all; he doesn't have to rely on strength and speed. He can take chakra from other people. He wonders if he can do it while they're still alive.

The chakra is gone by the next morning, but Sasuke isn't upset by its disappearance. Waits, instead, and the next time Itachi and Kisame-san kill someone, Sasuke drops down from the rafters and bites. He's more careful this time and less blood sprays. The target has more chakra than the first ninja did, and it stays long enough for Sasuke to train with it.

Itachi, after a long pause, says, "Wipe your mouth, Sasuke," and Sasuke does not quite understand the flicker of Itachi's eyes or the way the light seems to fall on Itachi's face, casting him in shadow.

* * *

Sasuke gets taller. Every three months he retreats to the nearest hot spring and sheds his skin. Every time it gets easier, every time there's less blood. Soon, he thinks, there'll only be a thin, translucent remnant of his old body, and it'll evaporate before anyone finds it.

He finds that if he skips it, the thoughts return. Some kind of telepathy, he comes to understand, and dislikes it.

Itachi speaks of someone named Orochimaru. He takes Sasuke to meet the members of the Akatsuki, who are all missing-nin.

They're crazy, all of them; Sasori-san makes puppets out of living people and Deidara-san is annoying and won't stop with his _danna_ and _un_ and hangs off of Itachi more than Sasuke likes. He settles for scowling at Deidara-san, who, on one occasion, stuck his tongue out and called Sasuke a brat who was lucky to have a brother like Itachi.

It reminds Sasuke of his life before he died, something of the brother Itachi used to be and a cousin named Shisui. The memories hurt: why Shisui isn't alive and Itachi is, how their clan died but Itachi didn't.

He starts avoiding Deidara-san. Itachi, who notices, does not remark on it, Kisame-san doesn't care enough, and Sasuke refuses to bring it up.

Besides, the Akatsuki are strong, and Sasuke can respect that. He thinks he might be stronger than some of them; he's small and fast and strong, inhumanly so (but Sasuke _is_ human, must be human), and all he needs is one opening to get close enough. He can suck down all their chakra and turn it against them, and they'll be powerless to stop him.

It's power, the closest thing he can get to unlimited power.

The leader of the Akatsuki examines him. He says something to Itachi, but Sasuke pours his concentration into staying still. Not drowning in the power, in the immovable _control_.

_That_, Sasuke thinks, _is what I want_.

He learns to drain chakra without killing his victims; through touch and not through blood. It teaches him control, stopping him from losing himself in the wild rush of life and taking what won't be missed. He drains from Itachi or Kisame-san or anyone else willing to offer themselves; just a little from each, coming to rest as a shimmering whole.

"Sasuke," Itachi says. Kisame-san is already dressed and ready to go, sword slung over his shoulder and wrapped neatly in its bandages. Sasuke trained with him last night and remembers its bite.

His is harder.

He wonders if he's stronger than Itachi was at his age; it's an exciting prospect, one that doesn't leave him a little afraid. Surpass Itachi; what happens then?

"We're returning to Konoha," Itachi says. He touches Sasuke's forehead with the tip of his finger, not hard enough to hurt (not that it matters). A light pressure on Sasuke's head to keep him focused.

Sasuke says, "Okay, Niisan." Adds, "Why?"

"There's a boy," Itachi says. "We need him."

"All right," Sasuke says, nodding. _We_, not _I_; it's not Itachi that needs him but the Akatsuki. "I'll leave an offering for Mother and Father while we're there."

Kisame-san says, "They've got a pretty good ramen house too." He licks his lips, and Sasuke says, "You're _always_ hungry, Kisame-san," and the blue man leans close enough for Sasuke to feel his breath on his mouth and says, "Then you shouldn't come close enough for me to eat."

Sasuke makes a face. "I taste like dead people," he says.

"You kill the rabbit before you eat it, don't you?"

Sasuke shrugs. "Only sometimes, and if it's old."

It silences Kisame-san, the way Sasuke meant it to, and if he takes a small, vicious pleasure in it, it's hardly his fault. Sometimes, Sasuke wants to remind the world that he's not just a child, he's a ninja, unacknowledged by a village as he is.

They set out for Konoha that afternoon but approach it slowly, arriving with the fog. Sasuke hides behind his brother, is almost lost in the combined billows of his and Kisame-san's cloak. He revels (but only a little) in the apprehension that the guards view Itachi and Kisame-san with. This is how it should be, the world cowering at Itachi's shadow. And Sasuke is Itachi's brother.

Nothing will ever be able to change that.

The night passes in a blur; Sasuke spends it exploring, running over streets and rooftops that, in another world, he should have known with the easy contempt of someone who's run them his entire life. He can't remember life in Konoha; not the touch of his mother's hand nor the voice of his father, not even what life was like when he'd had a clan and not just a brother.

Sleep doesn't come easily to him but it does come. He sleeps against his brother as the sun rises, a few deep hours before Sasuke rises, brushing his teeth with the toothbrush and toothpaste he bought in the last village. He washes his face and stares at his reflection, almost startled by the near-stranger that gazes back. Surely his face wasn't that narrow before? Not that hard and lined?

He sees the shape of Itachi's jaw in his own and smiles.

Sasuke asks around—he's young and polite and cute, even with the first signs of growth showing—and finds his clan's memorial. He stares at the gates of what was his old home, one that he doesn't remember. A strip of yellow police tape remains slashed across the gates.

He pulls it off and lets it drift away, rolling down the street.

He must have run through the gates hundreds of times. Thousands. He can't remember, but he must have. He lived here once; this was his home, with Itachi and Mother and Father.

He doesn't quite dare to run through so he leaps it instead, crouching on the stone wall and staring at the faded patterns of a red and white fan, painted below him on cracked stone. It takes him a moment to place it. When he does, a dull horror runs through him.

He'd _forgotten_.

Sasuke jumps down with a low, pained cry, like one of the animals he kills. If he'd forgotten that, what else has he forgotten? Mother and Father's faces have blurred in his memory, but he does remember them, he does.

He runs through the compound, choking on dust, brushing away the cobwebs. He lived here once; why can't he remember?

He bursts into one of the rooms, the sliding door shooting back with a loud thump, bouncing off of the wall. He identifies the stain on the tatami mats as blood and kneels. Tilts his head back as if looking up at someone taller

_(close your eyes)_

and a brief flash of memory lights the hallway, a lightning strike of illumination. Sasuke's mouth shape words his mind strains to recall. He sees a dark shape take form before him and nods as Itachi says,

_(don't open them until I tell you to)_

"What are you doing here, Sasuke?"

Sasuke's eyes fly open and he looks up at the silhouette of his brother, who steps forward into the broken, shattered sunlight and holds out his hand. "I'll show you Mother and Father's burial site, if you want," Itachi says. "But don't come back here. There are—"

"I _died_ here," Sasuke interrupts, head bowed. All that is visible is his mouth, still moving. "I. I sat here and he said 'close your eyes,' and I obeyed and. Who killed me, Itachi?" He shakes now, body trembling with suppressed tears. "He had to have been someone I trusted, because he told me to _close my eyes_ and I _obeyed_."

"Shisui," Itachi says, and Sasuke blinks.

"Shisui—Shisui died before the clan did. They." He frowns, concentrates. "They found his body in a river. They said it was suicide."

"But," Itachi prompts, his voice falling soft and low.

"But they thought it was you. They thought _you_ killed him for the. The Mangekyo Sharingan." Sasuke's eyes pinwheel into red for a moment, as if to emphasize his point.

"I don't _understand_!" he almost wails and he huddles on the mat and bloodstain, trying to recall the childhood someone ended.

Itachi says, "What do you know of Orochimaru?"

Sasuke listens.

They emerge from the compound together. The hem of Itachi's Akatsuki cloak is brushed with dust and dirt. Sasuke rubs his eyes, not even trying to hide the tears.

Itachi takes him to an inn where Kisame-san has already booked a room. Sasuke feels like crying some more; these are the tears he didn't shed when Itachi first told him. He still knows he can't remember what he should. Itachi told him the truth behind his clan's massacre, but even that doesn't explain the gap in his memory.

The boy that the Akatsuki need is short and blond and loud. Sasuke doesn't bother to attack, instead watching the boy's teacher. A man with long white hair and triangles on his cheeks, defending the boy, whose name is Naruto.

Naruto watches his teacher and Itachi fight, Kisame only there to provide the backup he doubts will be needed. Sasuke watches for other people who might interfere, and wonders why Naruto doesn't help. Surely he can? He's older than Sasuke, he should be as strong, if not stronger.

And there's something weird about him. He makes Sasuke's blood _hum_ and his skin crawl, makes him fight to draw closer and run further. Sasuke doesn't want to be near him, doesn't want to touch him, but _oh_, the blaze of his chakra, Sasuke can't see it but he knows it's there. If he took that chakra, he thinks, took not just a little but all like he did in those first hesitating, sloppy days, he would never run out. Could live forever on the glorious sunbright bonfire of Naruto's chakra.

Sasuke watches him instead of their surroundings, and when two men show up, one in green with the thickest, blackest eyebrows Sasuke's ever seen, the other silver-haired and familiar, Sasuke doesn't react in time. Their surroundings mutate into the inside of a stomach, the white-haired man's fingers weaving over each other as he recites the name of a seal.

"Sasuke!" Itachi barks. Sasuke starts, distracted from his preoccupation with the sunbright Naruto, who Sasuke itches to bite and drain. Leaps and starts to run after Itachi, but the silver-haired man makes a seal and says something and Sasuke's frozen in place. He checks his chakra resources hurriedly; low, because he hasn't taken from Itachi and Kisame-san since the day before yesterday.

He snarls at them all but doesn't ask for Itachi to stay behind. Itachi needs to run; they think he killed the clan, after all. Besides, he can always escape later and find them; he knows his brother's scent and can track with the best of dogs.

"Who is he?" Naruto asks, watching him wide-eyed, and the silver-haired man comes to stand by him.

"That's what I'd like to find out," the silver-haired man says.

The three men discuss on going after Itachi and Kisame-san. Sasuke watches with wary, angry eyes. Naruto draws near him.

"How old are you?" he asks.

Sasuke stays silent.

A squad of ninja arrive, surrounding Sasuke. They take him to a cell and ward it so he can't escape, no matter how much he throws himself at the bars. He feels like a wild animal, caged and feared and angry. The walls are too thick, too close. He tries punching through, once, but it repels him. Doesn't attack, just bears his rage and holds him in, no matter what he tries. Not enough chakra to do _anything_, not even to make a tiny hole in the wards where Sasuke can work at until they break.

A blond woman descends, accompanied by two ninja. Sasuke eyes her. She practically vibrates with the chakra weaving around her, the air made electric and stinging his tongue. He wonders what it's for, what possible use it could have.

"Is your name Sasuke Uchiha?" she demands, and Sasuke curls up in a corner and turns his back to her. He wishes she would go away and wonders how she knows his name.

She continues to ask questions and he keeps ignoring her. Eventually, the two ninja enter his cell.

Sasuke grins into his arm, a little slice of nastiness in his face, and flings himself at them. Kills one and lunges for the other's chakra, trying to take it in as fast as possible, but the woman suddenly lashes at him, punching him so hard his mouth tears free and he hears, in the back of his mind where he hears his heartbeat and lungs, his skull crack.

He slumps against the wall, staring up with wide, dazed eyes, watching her approach. She wears her anger as a cloak, and she lifts him up and says, "Are you Sasuke Uchiha?"

His skull heals. His blood dries. All that's left is throbbing headache, but even that recedes. He licks the blood on his mouth away and says, "Yes."

The woman nods, as if satisfied, and lets him drop onto the ground.

_(just a kid)_ he catches.

He thinks, _soon_, but stops.

The skin that shields him from the minds of other people is wearing thin, and the pain will be awful, pounding into him, wave after wave after wave, relentless; but he'll know what they're thinking. He'll know what they say and what they want and he'll know everything and sooner or later he'll escape.

He won't shed then, but wait.

He lets other ninja carry the bodies out. One is alive but just barely. A healer comes to see his head, accompanied by seven guards

_wouldn't do this for an adult_

and finds nothing wrong with him. The blond woman eyes Sasuke with suspicion, but Sasuke stares back with a limpid, blank expression until she gives up.

The interrogations continue. His skin grows dry and tight; the cuts heal fast and clean, slices of new skin beneath the papery suit of another. They've stopped sending the healer and want to know about how he can heal himself.

They don't feed him and Sasuke's stomach growls until the ninja start to look appetizing; his throat dries until he can't speak, and sometimes it's wet with blood instead of water and that's good enough. But then his body snaps; breaks.

Food isn't necessary, because Sasuke's not hungry anymore. His thirst vanishes, day by day, until Sasuke feels normal. Sasuke just sits and listens.

On the eleventh day, Naruto comes down.

Sasuke feels him coming; he's like a small sun of chakra, radiating it everywhere. Yellow, underlain with red, bright shining red, and it's the red Sasuke wants. Drink it in, drain Naruto dry.

Naruto stands in front of Sasuke and Sasuke thinks that all Naruto needs to do is come inside, maybe tear the wards off, and he'll be free.

"Who are you?" Naruto asks. "You were with. Uh. Itachi, or something. And that shark guy. But you're really, really young, so how?"

Blood mats Sasuke's hair and has dried on his cheek. Sasuke uncurls himself and glares. He means to stay silent. "None of your business," he ends up spitting.

Naruto asks more questions and starts to yell when Sasuke refuses to respond. Sasuke feels older and vindicated.

When Naruto leaves, he swears he'll return and beat the answers out of Sasuke if he has to. Sasuke wants to reply, "You can _try_, loser."

Different ninja arrive in the next team. Sasuke watches, indifferent.

"Why won't you talk to us, Sasuke-kun?" one asks. Her voice has gone low and sweet, reminiscent of Itachi's, and Sasuke hates her. "Itachi Uchiha killed your family—"

"That's a lie!" Sasuke shouts, his body slamming against the bars that separate them. They talk to him as though he's a wild animal, too wild and dumb to know that they're human and above him; they patronize him and lie to him, how dare they? "Itachi didn't kill _anybody_—" He stops. This is what they wanted. He sees them exchange swift glances and nod.

He retreats and pulls his knees up to his chest. He can hear them thinking but he doesn't know what to do with the knowledge anymore. He rests his chin on his knees and sets his mouth in a firm line. He's nine or ten—twelve or thirteen, if you count the years he's been dead. He can't cry anymore.

They think: _weakness_.

Naruto creeps down every day and talks at him, babbling; things about his day, about the chuunin exams, about Sakura-chan and Himura-kun and how pretty Sakura-chan is and how boring Himura-kun is and he treats Sasuke like a _friend_. Sasuke starts listening because there's nothing else to do.

Naruto mentions nothing about Itachi, though once—Orochimaru. Sasuke jerks his head up, staring. "Tell me more about Orochimaru," he demands. "Tell me everything you know."

It's not a lot and Naruto looks at him with worried eyes the entire time. "Why do you want to know?"

"He killed my clan," slips out. "I'm going to kill him."

Naruto thinks about it. "I guess that makes sense," he says. "I'll help you."

Sasuke stills. Stares at Naruto, chewing on his bottom lip. "What?"

"I'll help you," Naruto says and shrugs. "You had a family. And this Orochimaru guy took it away from you. So—I'll help you." Sasuke continues to stare and Naruto looks at the ground, red-faced. "I don't think you're all that bad," he says. "I don't have a family either."

"I have a brother," Sasuke says. "He's the only family I need."

He turns away to face the wall. Naruto, behind him, mumbles "Oh."

After a while, Sasuke hears him shuffling away.

The interrogation squad comes down again. "Your brother killed your clan and lied to you, Sasuke," they say. Sasuke shuts his ears and turns away. "All we want is to find him and bring him to justice. Do it for the memory of" _just tell us already you damn brat_ "your family. Your father was a good man, and he wouldn't have wanted this for you."

_(close your eyes)_

Sasuke curls up tighter and waits for them to leave.

_goddamnit_ he hears one think.

One day, Naruto runs down to his cell, standing in front of him, panting. Sasuke watches him.

"Orochimaru is attacking Konoha," Naruto says. "He's trying to kill everyone and you said you were going to kill him." Sasuke lifts his head, entire body tensed to spring. "Now's your chance."

Naruto tears the ward apart and Sasuke leaps out of the cell, his head turning toward Naruto, and he dreams about leaping on Naruto and draining him dry of chakra. The dream passes, the moment fades; Sasuke smells snakes and rot, and knows this to be Orochimaru.

He stops only to grab a ninja and drain him completely of his chakra; it has been too long, he's been too dry without it. It floods through him, filling out the hollow bones of his cheeks and adding flesh to his bones. He's grown taller, his clothes not quite fitting him; if he looks in the mirror, he doesn't doubt he'll see a stranger again. Less baby fat, more muscle, more lines and angles and hardness. He's growing up.

Snakes roar in the sky. Sasuke's lips pull away from his teeth in a snarl as he runs.

Orochimaru and Itachi are fighting. Sasuke's heart skips a beat, he slows; but then he's going as fast as before, slamming into Orochimaru and fighting for purchase. Trying to rip him into shreds. His eyes whirl with the Sharingan; his first time calling it up. It burns through his chakra resources but Sasuke holds onto it grimly.

When Itachi kills Orochimaru, Sasuke feels no satisfaction. He looks up at Itachi and sees Naruto in the background, bloody and beaten and watching.

Itachi's mouth curls into a smile. "Well done, Sasuke," he says and touches Sasuke's shoulder.

"Where is Kisame-san?" Sasuke asks.

"Dead," Itachi says. "Come, my brother," and Sasuke hears _close your eyes_ but still cannot explain why. He blames it on the enemy ninja, who kept telling him that Itachi killed the clan.

He looks over Itachi's shoulder and sees Naruto, whose face has taken on a betrayed cast and watches with the bewildered helplessness of someone who doesn't believe what he's seeing. Sasuke wonders what will happen if he goes with Naruto, leaves Itachi—

but that's stupid, foolishness. He only knows Naruto through his flaming chakra, bright enough to draw Sasuke's eye from miles away. And he loves his brother.

So Sasuke points at Naruto and says, "There he is."

* * *

_End_  



	2. through time and space, or only time

Author's Notes/Warnings: Not at all canon-compliant, especially in view of the recent chapters. Characterization and plot is even more AU than before.

_Boy, Reborn_ is not a multi-chaptered story by any stretch of the imagination - what's being posted below is something that fits into the universe that I wrote while trying to get a handle of what was going on in the background, and decided to share it because, well, that's what fanfiction is for. It's short, rough, and very clumsy, and although I'd like to think that my writing's a little more sophisticated than three years ago, who knows? (Actually, I wrote this a year ago, but the point stands.) In any case, I hope you enjoy this short piece.

* * *

Itachi does not believe in monsters.

There was once a time when he could have been happy.

These are facts, dry, dead things pinned to a table, whispering spider-husks somewhere in the recesses of his memory. They are unrelated (or so he tells himself).

Sasuke smiles across the table and Itachi knows that there is no pattern to life. Only opportunities, and chances to rectify old mistakes. Sasuke is so bright, so young, so fragile, and Itachi could crush his life again in a second, because strength is not a matter of chakra or muscles or ability but of will, and Sasuke would never resist him.

Itachi is not hungry, but there is no point in not eating, so he picks up his chopsticks and murmurs the required _itadakimasu_ and pretends not to notice Sasuke watching him so, so carefully.

* * *

There was a courtyard, fenced by stone walls, faded fans painted over the cracks. The sun so bright Itachi had to squint his eyes as he pushed back the sliding door. The grass growing between the stones on the ground.

Itachi's shadow, swallowing his brother.

* * *

Itachi remembers more than Sasuke does.

He remembers the scroll, written in letters that curved and slashed the paper, writhing beneath his eyes and strangled in his throat. Tangling with his tongue and slamming against his teeth. The sensation of loss. The smell, as if the air itself burned. The strangeness, the idea that this was not a jutsu, this was not an ordinary scroll, but what did it use, if not chakra? Because Itachi does not believe in monsters.

He dug Sasuke out of the grave himself. He remembers how the sun beat down on the back of his neck as he read the memorial stones, his brother an afterthought in life and a tragedy in death. Itachi remembers the betrayal of his hand in Sasuke's hair, the weakness of Itachi's command. The lift of the sword and the easy give of Sasuke's flesh. The pattern of blood on Itachi's clothes, on the floor of Itachi's home. The feel of Sasuke's skin before death exhaled.

Itachi remembers everything. All these sensations locked inside his skin, all these snapshots of touch.

Sometimes Itachi thinks of Sasuke, digging his way out halfway through. The red, red eyes. The claws. The shape of his teeth, so smooth and so white, so long and so pointed. The movements of his muscles beneath his flesh. How his head turned, how his body stilled, how his teeth gleamed.

But Itachi does not believe in monsters, so he does not remember often.

Instead he remembers a lake that the sun would set on fire. He sat with Sasuke on the dock and shaped Sasuke's fingers around the seals and told him to learn. Sasuke had frowned and bitten his lip and tried to obey as Itachi looked out into the horizon and thought one day he might walk away from Konoha. He remembers the bite of the flames on his lips as fire billowed out over the lake; Sasuke's face alive and warm, painted with the same colors as the horizon. The taste of ash thick in the back of Itachi's throat.

Sasuke's eight-year old body, so strange beneath the blanket as Itachi waits for his brother to return. Face so pale, so thin. Something old about its youth, caught in the cheekbones that protruded in the gaunt, hollow face. As if he has been starving to death. No sign of that neat, fatal slash. Itachi had been kind to Sasuke, because – oh, did it matter?

Sasuke's eyelids begin to flicker. His chest rises as he inhales.

"Open your eyes," Itachi murmurs, and Sasuke obeys. Itachi's palms itch; his arms ache in their sockets.

There was once a time when he could have been happy.

Sasuke's eyes, so filled with trust.

Itachi makes himself think of the Mangekyo Sharingan, but heat moves through him and he remembers a sky so blue that he looked at his brother's face and was startled by the rust-colored gaze. He remembers once there was a smile as bright as the sun.

He thinks Kisame is laughing in the shadows where he has staked out a corner and a chair to watch Itachi do the impossible. Someday Itachi will know why people laugh like that, but right now Sasuke's life is gleaming in his hands and Itachi thinks he could stop himself and crush his brother back into the dust.

But Itachi does nothing without a reason.

He thinks of a bridge, of moonlight, of a body face down in the river, of a slow-moving heaviness. Of the whirl of hands and feet as they fought, the kind of movements that Shisui had always called a dance when Itachi could see it was nothing of the sort.

Itachi is sure of himself, and spins his lies. Sasuke has never had the ability to question him. Believes him in an instant, trusts him so much. Itachi has never known anyone as stupid as his younger brother.

"You've been asleep," Itachi says even though his hands remember how it felt to kill the only person who truly loved him, "for many years."

"I died?" Sasuke asks.

Sasuke's gaze is like shallow water, and Itachi cannot find a hint of that rust-red gaze.

The eight-year old child Itachi left behind could not have known that. The eight-year old child that sits in a cold bed with blankets bunched around his legs should not—cannot—Itachi keeps his breathing under control.

"Yes."

Itachi wishes for a moment that Sasuke would turn from him, would spit at him, would fly at him and try to kill him. He is not sure why. He touches the back of Sasuke's neck, where the skin is so pale and smooth and soft. Caked with grave dirt. If he moves his hand like _so_ he can snap Sasuke's neck and walk away.

The moon shines through the window on Sasuke's face. Itachi shoves down the prickle of unease, the blue light building Sasuke into something whose heart beats to the pulse of the waves. The creature that pulled itself out of a small grave, that smiled at Itachi with no recognition in its feral-bright eyes.

Itachi does not believe in monsters, so he tells Sasuke the truth.

And after that, it's easy.


End file.
